Eating breakfast on El Cap gave me this weird feeling that I would guess prison or being stranded on a desert island would be like. You know when you see the movies where there’s a group of people crouched in a circle around the last of their provisions and they’re waiting like dogs to get their share? Well, it’s not like we didn’t have enough food, but if the bicycle trip taught me one thing it was that the first meal of the day you should just plow down as much food as you can because the 20 minutes of the stuffed feeling are no match against the benefit of working on a full tank.
So, Timmy would open these cans of fruit, which I hadn’t eaten since I was a kid, and it was “go time” with your dirty hands in the can. Grab a pineapple ring, a half a peach or pear, or bagel with some peanut butter. You’re reaching into a can and you look around to ask “anyone want any more pears?”, but inside you hope no one says yes so you can get primal and rip into the last of the fruit. After the feeding frenzy there’d be a session of handing out clif bars and shot bloks for the days climb. I crammed those bloks into my pockets like a shoplifter…unite and take over.
At night Timmy would break out cans of beans, tortillas, and cheese, or maybe trader joe’s boxes of asian noodles. He’d sit there and be the nightly chef, divvying out burritos until you refused the last helping. I never thought I’d have so much food that I’d be turning down thirds or fourths, but at the end of the day, meal time was down time, and you’d get a chance to bullshit, eat, and listen to some music.